


Being GNC at the GNC

by round_robin



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, First Dates, GNC Character, GNC Lambert, Gyms, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Kilts, Lambert in a skirt, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Panties, Queer Culture, Skirts, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: Okay, so the stupid vitamin store at the mall wasn’t Lambert’s dream job, but he wasn’t the type to have a dream job, any job would do, and the GNC didn’t care when he showed up in a skirt (Lambert’s test to see if a job was, at the very least, tolerant of him, if not openly embracing). The manager took one look at him, looked at his resume, and shrugged. He got the job. Lambert was wearing one of his favorite skirts the dayhewalked in.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 190





	Being GNC at the GNC

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely the fault of the cake shop discord. We were talking about acronyms that meant things in "real" life, but also mean things in the queer/kink community, and I remembered that GNC is also the name of a store... it really wasn't a long journey to "GNC Lambert works at the GNC in the mall." I've never written Lambert as GNC before, so thank you very much to childoffantasy for being supportive and helping me out when I was unsure, and minutiae for cheering me on. In this fic, Lambert is GNC and uses he/him pronouns most of the time, but when wearing a skirt and all done up (say for a date) Lambert used she/her. Lambert is in a skirt for most of this but when all dolled up, I'll switch to she/her.
> 
> The homophobia is brief and Eskel stands up for Lambert, so all in all, it's very cathartic (from my point of view).
> 
> The "crack treated seriously" tag is there because the very idea of any of them working in a mall feels like crack for me. Setting them anywhere mundane is... yeah, it's a little out there, but still fun to write about! Half way through this, I realized they were probably living in the town from Dream Daddy (there is a mall and a water front) but this can exist wherever works for you as a reader.
> 
> This fic was also really hard to tag because "Gym Bro Eskel (But He's Nice)" seemed too weirdly specific... There is Lambert/Cerys in this, but it's just implied, I didn't see the need to tag it.

1.

Okay, so the stupid vitamin store at the mall wasn’t Lambert’s dream job, but he wasn’t the type to have a dream job, any job would do, and the GNC didn’t care when he showed up in a skirt (Lambert’s test to see if a job was, at the very least, tolerant of him, if not openly embracing). The manager took one look at him, looked at his resume, and shrugged. He got the job.

Lambert’s friend Aiden worked at the coffee place right across, which was a big incentive to working at the mall instead of one of the stores closer to his place. Aiden sprang for lunch some days, it was a good system. Sure, because it was a vitamin and supplement shop, Lambert got more than a few _looks_ from gym rats who saw the skirt and assumed one thing or another. Fuck ‘em, Lambert didn’t care for anyone’s opinion anyway. It was a paycheck, and he got out early enough to go have fun whenever he wanted, all in all, not a bad situation.

Lambert was wearing one of his favorite skirts the day _he_ walked in, a cute little red number with some kicky pleats that caught the air just right when he did a spin... he was the only one working that day, no one else in the shop to give him a side eye, as long as he was wearing the stupid work shirt (gym-style too tight t-shirt, Lambert definitely didn’t hate it) no one said anything about it. The skirt fell just above his knees and this morning felt like a shaving day, so his legs were beautiful and smooth. He and Aiden planned to meet up after work and go to the waterfront, see if they could catch a date. Lambert was so over dating at the moment but if there was some hot college rowing club looking for a good time... yeah, Lambert wouldn’t say no to _that_.

Lambert was behind the register checking through the shelves of the more expensive shit, the bottles of pills and vitamins that were used to cut drugs or meth or whatever, that needed to be kept off the shelves where light fingers could pick them up and dash out, when he heard a deep, rumbling voice, like dark chocolate pouring through his fucking soul. “Hey uh, do you have the bigger sizes of this? The twenty ounces?”

Lambert blinked, adjusting to the sound of... yeah, that was a good voice, but in his experience with gym bros, good voices weren’t always attached to good faces or good men. Sliding the glass door closed and locking it, Lambert stood and turned to face the customer. Honey brown eyes looked back at him, attached to a beefcake of a man whose arms were damn near splitting out of his shirt. Lambert had worked at that store for a while, there were at least two other gyms in the mall, he’d seen all sorts of gym rats rush down to get their after workout supplements, sweat running down their faces, cheeks red... This man was none of those things. He was tall, and—as previously mentioned—busting out of his top in all places, arms, shoulders, tits. Lambert bit his tongue.

By contrast, he was wearing the oldest, most stretched out pair of workout shorts imaginable, with leggings underneath, it almost looked like a skirt, but Lambert knew it wasn’t, just an old pair of shorts, this man didn’t go to the gym to impress anyone, he went to fucking _work_.

By the time Lambert managed to find his words, the hunk had spotted Lambert’s skirt and promptly lost his own. His fingers twitched on the bottle of vitamin D supplements he held in his hand and his mouth snapped shut before he said anything he would regret. Lambert took a second to sigh inwardly, this one had so much potential... “Yeah, give me a second to check in back.”

Since he was alone in the shop, he left the store room door open so he could keep an eye on the store. It was fairly late at night, the mall was closing in like two hours, not many people kicking around the place. Lambert located the bottle of supplements and went back out to the counter, handing them over. “Will that be all?”

The hunk shook his head and ducked away, returning the bottle he didn’t want to the correct shelf. Lambert almost smiled at that, most people weren’t so considerate. But the weird little eye check when he noticed the skirt still made Lambert wary. Hopefully this wasn’t his usual store and the hunk would buy his supplements somewhere else... Lambert would be sad to lose the eye candy, but he hated the stares on the days he wore something fun and flirty. Lambert’s clothes were just for him, no one else, he wanted to feel good, show off his freshly shaven legs.

The man came back with a bottle of post-workout shake mix, cherry berry and nodded. “That’s all of it.”

Lambert rang him up and handed over his purchases in a plastic bag. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks.” The hunk pulled the bag close to his chest and turned, walking towards the front door. Just before he exited the shop, he stopped and looked back, smiling a little. “I, uh... I like the skirt. Looks good with the boots.”

And with that, he left, mechanical little bell ringing as he went, leaving Lambert standing alone with some new thoughts. He looked down at his skirt, when he picked it out this morning, he only wanted to show off his legs, didn’t think much about the boots (though skirts and combat boots were a particular favorite of his) but the fact that the hunk noticed both, that was... well that was something, now wasn’t it?

2.

The next time the hunk came in, Lambert was feeling confident enough (it was the skirts, a hell of an ego boost, especially when you made hetero gym bros rethink some things in real time) to ask his name. “I like to get the names of our repeat customers,” Lambert explained. “Makes the place feel a little more friendly.”

Across the shop, Coën snorted. Lambert had asked a customer’s name exactly once, and it was because he saw Aiden checking the guy out through the window from the coffee shop. On his break, he ran over and gave the information download on it all. Coën was a quiet sort until you got to know him and he thought Lambert and Aiden were in a weirdly co-dependent friendship, which... fair.

Cocking his hip out to draw attention to the little black skirt that was almost too short to be professional (almost) Lambert batted his eyelashes. Just as he intended, the hunk blushed. “Uh, I’m Eskel.” He turned his head, hiding the tangle of scars on his face a little. Lambert noticed them the first time he came in, and honestly it wasn’t the most remarkable thing about him. Those would be his tits, this hunk—Eskel—had the finest tits Lambert had ever seen.

Once again, feeling bold, Lambert extended a hand to shake. “I’m Lambert. Do you go to any of the gyms around the mall? We have a special discount if you show us your membership card.”

Showing the first emotion that wasn’t shy blushing or embarrassed blushing, Eskel snorted. “Nah, I go to a real gym.”

Lambert tried really, really hard not to smirk (judging by Coën’s eye roll, he failed) and nodded. “Oh yeah, I don’t like to bad mouth any of the places around here, but... yeah, the twenty-four hour place doesn’t have dumbbells heavier than like thirty pounds. What gym do you go to?”

Turned out, Eskel went to the boxing gym a few streets away. Lambert was familiar with the area, the GNC over there shut down about a year ago and the staff moved here. Some chain places really didn’t do themselves any favors by putting stores so close to one another. If Lambert had any aspirations towards management (no, no he did not) he might have something to say about it, but this was just a job and he was good at it. And he got to spend the day looking at hot guys. Hot guys like Eskel.

“I’ve heard of that place,” he said, desperate to keep the conversation going. “A few of the people from over there stop in to buy stuff, I can suggest extending the discount program over there to my manager?”

Eskel smiled, turning a little, overcoming the self-consciousness about his face. Honestly, if you asked Lambert, Eskel had exactly zero things to be self conscious about, his body was a work of art, his honey touched brown eyes as beautiful as any Lambert had ever seen. What he wouldn’t give to have those eyes closing in pleasure as they...

Lambert shook himself, tuning in to what Eskel was actually saying. “Definitely tell me if you get that going, Geralt—the owner—might give me a membership discount if he knows I had a hand in it.”

“Will do.” Lambert checked Eskel out (both his purchases and his ass, shorts much less raggedy today, leggings enhancing oh so biteable thighs) and watched him go.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Lambert almost collapsed onto the counter. “Fuck, he’s hot.”

“Hmm,” Coën mumbled from across the way. He finished stocking his shelf and drifted over, leaning on the counter next to Lambert. “So are you actually going to ask him out? Or are you just going to torture yourself?”

Lambert pouted, then stood up straight as the door opened again. “Undetermined,” he said, going to assist the customer that just walked in.

3.

Lambert didn’t date customers, that’s what he tried to tell himself anyway, until that one time he went home with the really, really buff gym lass who he totally thought was a lesbian but definitely was not. “I like your skirt,” she whispered as he passed her bag across the counter. “Wouldn’t mind getting the same one for myself.”

Smirking, Lambert gave her the name of the shop where he bought it, but not without adding, “Unless you want to try on mine? Looks like we might be the same size.” She took him up on the offer and later that night, Lambert’s little green skirt decorated her bedroom floor as strong arms held him tight. Lambert wasn’t picky about the plumbing associated with the arms holding him, as long as they were strong enough to squeeze the breath out of him, and Cerys definitely had that covered.

The next time Eskel came in, there was a chill in the air from a summer storm and Lambert decided pants were the better option that day. He had thick leggings for winter, but it was still summer, way too early for cold weather gear just yet. And he didn’t mind pants, they were just so very boring, most men’s clothing was.

Eskel walked up to the counter, his pre-workout and post-workout drink powder mixes in one hand, his during workout granola bars tucked under his arm, and set them all down. He looked Lambert up and down and frowned. He didn’t say anything at first while Lambert rang up his stuff, which was weird, Eskel wasn’t chatty by any means, but he was friendly, Lambert might even call it flirting if he wanted to let himself get a little too hopeful. Finally, Eskel opened his mouth and said, “You look different. Like that. I think... I think I like the skirts.” Lambert looked up from the items he was scanning, just in time to see the furious blush flash across Eskel’s cheeks. “I mean, I’m not telling you how to dress. No way. But the skirts, they’re... nice. Make you look nice.” He went silent again and handed over his debit card for Lambert to scan.

“Thanks,” Lambert mumbled as he finished the sale and passed the plastic bag across the counter. As he did, their fingertips brushed and they both stopped there for a beat too long. It was... nice.

But Eskel eventually had to take his bag off the counter and leave the shop, get on with his day. When the door closed behind him, Lambert finished up with the next two customers, it was about half an hour before the store was empty and he could just... take a moment to... process.

4.

Aiden always made them walk down to the food court when they ate lunch together. “All day around coffee, I don’t want to smell it on my lunch.” So even as they sat there with their lunches brought from home in mismatched tupperware, the miasma of all the food in the mall pushed in on them. Not exactly the place Lambert wanted to broach this subject but... well, needs must.

“There’s a guy that comes to my store,” he said, stabbing his salad, not making eye contact. As soon as Aiden saw his eyes, it was all over, the perceptive fucker. “Eskel. Big, built like the prettiest brick shit house you’ve ever seen."

“Scars?” Aiden said, crunching on his chips.

Lambert frowned. “Yeah. There’s a lot more to him though.”

“Oh yes, there really, really is.” Aiden crunched again, eyes going distant for a second. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. Got his name wrong on the cup once and he had the cutest sad puppy look. I try my best to make sure I spell it correct and he always smiles. Nice guy. You gonna fuck him?”

Lambert almost bit down a little too hard on his fork. Returning it to his dish, he shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s not exactly... I don’t know how to with him. When Cerys hit on me, she did the hitting.” And what a good night that had been... no, he was getting off track. “Eskel blushes when he tried to tell me he liked my skirt.” Which was very, very sweet. Lambert didn’t get a lot of assholes sneering at him for wearing the “wrong” clothes, but it still happened, unfortunately, most of those assholes looked more like Eskel than not, but Eskel was different, he was nice, and so very shy so far. How did he even approach someone like that? Lambert was very out and proud about his everything, he didn’t want to... overwhelm Eskel, not when he seemed like such a sweet guy.

Aiden thought for another moment while he finished his lunch. “So, usually, after he goes to your shop, he stops by me and gets some coffee. Says he needs it for the long drive home. I asked him once, how long, he said a good thirty minutes. He said he only comes to this side of town to go to the gym, because he likes the place he’s at.” That mad sparkle entered Aiden’s eyes and Lambert leaned in close. “He said there’s another GNC like a block from his apartment. He could go there. But he comes here, and he says he likes your skirts... Think, Lamb, why the fuck would he go out of his way? What possible reason could he have?”

Lambert said nothing and they finished their lunch in silence. Before they split up and returned to their respective stores, Aiden brushed Lambert’s shoulder. “Don’t overthink it. I love trolling for college dudes with you, but if you found something solid, I’d be happy for you.” He bumped into Lambert again with a small smile. “Ball’s in your court, babes, I’d say go for it.”

Lambert nodded and headed back in to relieve Coën for his own lunch break. There was a steady flow of customers for the rest of the day, but no Eskel, which was good, Lambert hadn’t quite thought of what exactly to do... yet.

5.

Lambert had been thinking about Eskel for weeks, and _thinking_ about Eskel for two days solid. He hadn’t come in again, which was good, since Lambert hadn’t really formulated a plan. What do you do when the hot gym hunk compliments your skirt? Touches your fingers? You’d think Lambert had plenty of experience in this territory, but he definitely did not, most gym bros glanced at him and either didn’t care, or said something nasty. He’d never had any of the guys like it before. It made things... confusing.

But Lambert had a fine distraction today when a random customer decided to kick up shit. The thing was, Lambert wasn’t even wearing a skirt, he opened his closet and spotted the kilt one of his Scottish cousins sent him for Christmas last year and decided to go for it. He had a flamenco dress from the Hispanic side of the family (Lambert still had jealous dreams about his little cousins and their beautiful fluffy quinceanera dresses, the flamenco ensemble was as close as he could get thanks to one of his very, very gay cousins) but that was a little too showy for work. Lambert had worn the kilt a few times and most of the general public at least knew what a kilt was, so he got the least amount of flack for it.

Today’s idiot was apparently not up on such cultural traditions. It was so random, so fucking out of left field, Lambert didn’t even clock the bastard when he walked in, usually he was good at spotting the jerks and preparing before the verbal blow came, but today he was completely caught off guard, his mind drifting away, thinking about Eskel.

“The fuck?” the meathead grunted, to himself apparently, he walked in alone and Lambert and Coën were the only ones in the store. Who the hell took a shot at someone—verbal or otherwise—with no backup? Idiots, that’s who. “Didn’t think someone _like you_ would work in a place like this.”

Lambert blinked, no quick retort ready because he just didn’t fucking expect this. “Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Behind the counter, Coën looked over, keeping an eye on the situation. He knew Lambert could stick up for himself, but would intervene if things got... sticky. Coën was good like that.

The meathead shrugged, a little bit of his bluster draining away. He was still looking at Lambert like a fucking circus freak, a look Lambert was, unfortunately, all too familiar with. “You know. The kinda guy who’d wear a skirt. This probably isn’t the place for you.”

The shop door slammed shut. Lambert didn’t even hear the bell, he was too distracted. Didn’t have time to look up either (probably shouldn’t look away from the bigot that was within swinging distance anyway) but he definitely saw Eskel’s very familiar shoulders come into view. “Maybe this isn’t the place for you? You think about that?” Eskel snapped, voice louder and more forceful than Lambert had ever heard him be. “And that’s not a skirt, it’s a kilt! Look at the pleats, the length, it’s a fucking family tartan too! You never seen a kilt before? And even if he was wearing a skirt, it wouldn’t matter, not your business, _bro_ , not your business.”

Eskel was a full head taller than the rude bro, whose neck was too thick to look up properly. He scowled at Eskel’s throat. “I don’t think he should be wearin’ that.”

“Great,” Eskel said. “You can have those thoughts all you like, but have ‘em somewhere else. Fuck off, this shop isn’t the place for you.”

Eskel glared the guy down—who now that Lambert was looking, was almost a head and a half shorter than Eskel. did Eskel grow? did his swooping in to protect Lambert make him taller? fuck wasn’t that a beautiful thought—until he couldn’t take it anymore. Turning tail, the asshole left, door slamming behind him.

As soon as the door closed, Eskel’s shoulder’s deflated. He was still a big fucker, but now he looked more like Lambert remembered him; apparently he was using all of his height for intimidation purposes and Lambert fell just a little bit more in love with him. Swiping a hand through the hair now hanging in his face, Eskel exposed some of the scars up his cheek, but did not turn away like usual. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to step in where I wasn’t needed... I just hate when people are dicks like that.”

Between the sudden bigot, then the sudden rescue, Lambert was having trouble gathering his words. “That’s... you were fine. Thanks.”

“Seriously, thanks,” Coën called. “Now neither of us has to get fired for decking him.”

Eskel smirked, then ducked his head. “Yeah, still, I didn’t mean to be a white knight. You can probably handle yourself.”

Yes, Lambert could handle himself. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it.”

Eskel shrugged. “I like your skirts, don’t like seeing people put you down for it. And I know gay men are pretty much the vanilla of the queer community, I try to be supportive where I can. I like the kilt too, the skirts, the combat boots, it all works... I don't know much about skirts, dated a few drag queens over the years though, so I get that they’re comfortable. No one should give you shit for being comfortable in who you are.”

 _Gay men, queer community_ , the moment these words dropped from Eskel’s lips, Lambert’s entire mind suddenly lit up. He guessed Eskel might be questioning, one of those straight guys who saw something new and thought ‘ _alright, sure, let’s try_...’ and Lambert never wanted to be an experiment, but fuck, if Eskel was gay, then maybe...

He tried to be chill, tried not to move in uncomfortably close, he was still at work after all. “Thanks, they are comfortable. I like the way they look too, like how they make me feel.”

Eskel nodded, a blush slowly creeping across his cheeks. “And that’s cool. I have a few non-binary friends who—”

“GNC,” Lambert said. “Not non-binary, I’m gender non conforming.”

For a moment, Eskel stared at him blankly, and for a few terrifying seconds, Lambert though he fucked it up. _Go to thank the man for standing up for you and now you correct him when he’s trying so damn hard to be polite..._ Then, one of those beautiful fucking smiles spread across Eskel’s face and he threw his head back and laughed. “Gender non conforming? You’re GNC and you work _at_ the GNC?”

Lambert snorted. “Yeah, yes I do.” Aiden also busted a gut when Lambert first got the job, and yeah, it was fucking hilarious when you thought about it. If anyone was holding a big neon sign of their identity over their heads, well, Lambert’s was literal neon.

“Sorry I didn’t ask about your pronouns, then,” Eskel said. “That’s why I thought you introduced yourself, to make it easier to use your name instead of getting into it. So, what do you... prefer?”

Lambert shrugged. “Anything’s fine, usually he/him when I’m at work, but, uh...” He moved in closer, almost too close for a customer conversation, good thing the manager split his time between two stores and was never fucking here, and Coën didn’t care. “It’s more than just the skirts. When I get all done up, I prefer she/her. Is that something you might want to see?”

If they were standing any closer, they’d be on top of each other. Coën politely turned around to check the shelves behind the counter, giving Lambert his moment to score. Fuck, almost three months of weekly-ish visits, Lambert had seen Eskel’s face so many times, heard him chuckled softly under his breath, brushed their fingers together half a dozen times, he was very ready for this to go somewhere else.

Eskel licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah, uh, if... yeah. When do you get off?” Lambert arched an eyebrow and Eskel blushed. “Of work, when’s your shift over?”

“Forty-five minutes!” Coën shouted, then returned his eyes to the shelves.

“Yeah, that. Forty-five minutes.”

Eskel nodded. “I’ll just get what I need to get and... wait by the coffee shop? We can exchange numbers?”

Lambert was fucking ready to give Eskel his number now, but even he realized how unprofessional that was. He could wait forty-five minutes, that was fine. “Yeah, sounds good.”

With another nod, Eskel went around and did his usual shopping—there was a flavor of protein bar he liked and Lambert made sure they were always in stock, he didn’t know if he should tell Eskel that or keep it as his little secret—trying not to stare at Lambert as he went and finding it very difficult indeed. He checked out with Coën, nodding to the other man in a knowing way. Yeah, Coën had seen Lambert get bullied by assholes before, he was just happy to see someone else step in, sticking up for his friend. As far as Coën was concerned, Eskel was solid in his book, and Lambert was glad for it.

“See you soon,” Eskel said as he left. Lambert watched him walk across the hall to the coffee shop, watched Aiden take his order, and watched him sit down at one of the tables, waiting.

Forty-five minutes had never felt so long. And there Eskel was, sitting with his coffee, face... not tense, more pensive Lambert would say. Thinking deep about what the hell to actually say? Well Lambert didn’t know what to say either, so they were off to a great start.

When Coën shoved him out the door, Lambert took half a second to pull another shirt over his work shirt before making his way over to the coffee place. Eskel’s face fucking lit up as soon as he saw him, it was so beautiful, Lambert could ignore the arched eyebrow from Aiden as he watched the whole thing from behind the counter.

They exchanged numbers and planned for a date this weekend. Lambert watched Eskel leave the mall, walk out into the overcrowded parking lot and get into a not too shabby truck. His own Prius waited for him in the back employee parking areas and he hopped to it, lest Aiden try to catch him for details. Hopefully, he’d have more to share after their date.

6.

So the date went well. Okay, it went _really_ fucking well. While Lambert was getting dressed, he paused for about three seconds, wondering if he should wear jeans or something, look more “normal” for once in his life. He quickly shook the thought from his head. “He asked you out because he likes how you are, dummy,” he said to himself, “give him what he came here to see.” Selecting a tight black skirt with a dangerously high slit, Lambert got dressed and drove to meet Eskel.

The moment Eskel laid eyes on her, Lambert knew she picked the right outfit. It was a warm night, but the wind coming off the water front usually kicked up a chill, so Eskel had a jacket over his arm... a jacket he conveniently moved in front of his crotch the second he saw Lambert’s outfit. Black skirt, black tank top that clung to her body in all the right places, paired with chunky heel black booties, Lambert looked to die for and she appreciated Eskel noticing.

He swallowed hard. “You look... you look amazing. So, uh... she/her tonight?”

The wings on Lambert’s eyeliner were a big clue that Eskel was smart to pick up on, but she nodded all the same. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s whatever you prefer. Still Lambert, though, right? No nicknames?”

Lambert felt her face heat up at the fucking consideration dripping from every word. Fuck, Eskel was almost too good to be true. So far, Lambert had resisted her normal inclination to search for any flaw, find what was _wrong_ so she could have a reason to break it off, but Eskel was... damn near perfect.

The date was perfect. All the good cafes on the waterfront were more fun in summer, with specials and one time only deals to get customers through the door. Instead of stopping at one place, they grabbed an appetizer from one, a meal from another, and ice cream for dessert, walking down the path as they went. Half way through the main course—Lambert vetoed the fried fish, too much grease for what she hoped to happen later, and they ended up with wraps from the healthy-ish place next to the burger shop—Eskel looked down, suddenly remembering Lambert’s heels. “Do you need to sit down? Sorry, should’ve realized the walking... not the best.”

Lambert shrugged. “I’m used to walking in heels, but we can sit if you want.”

They sat on a nearby bench that another couple had just vacated and finished their wraps, a few pieces of loose lettuce falling from Lambert’s and landing on her dress. Eskel reached over to brush it away, then paused before touching. “Uh, sorry...”

“If you don’t think I want that hand on my knee, we are clearly on two different dates,” Lambert smirked. Taking pity on the poor man, she reached out and laced their fingers together. Good thing wraps were a one handed kind of food.

By the time they had their ice cream, they returned to the same bench, watching the boats out on the water. Despite living in a harbor town, Lambert didn’t know anyone who actually owned a boat, she’d never been out. “Second date, we should take a boat ride,” she said, a surprise to even Lambert.

Eskel smirked, squeezing her hands. “I’m doing that well, huh?”

Uncrossing her legs and shifting a little bit closer so their thighs brushed together, Lambert smiled. “Very well indeed.”

They talked about Eskel’s job, he already knew where Lambert worked, and she was surprised to discover he was a chemical engineer. “Lots of women in my field,” he said with one of those shy smiles that made Lambert absolutely melt.

“Ah, that’s why you have such correct opinions on my skirt collection.”

“Yeah. You could show me the rest of your collection, if you wanted... sometime.”

Eskel’s hands had been infuriatingly polite that night and finally Lambert took the situation into her own hands, pulling the large paw to her knee, thumb tickling the inside of her thigh. Lambert wore this fucking skirt for a reason after all. “Sometime, like tonight?” Eskel had never agreed faster.

Lambert’s place was closer, with large hands on her hips, she wrapped around Eskel as well as she could, broad bastard that he was. Fuck, they were barely inside the front door. Fumbling with the lock and the hall light, she managed to make sure they weren’t stumbling in total darkness before whispering. “Do you want the tour, or can we dispense with the pretense?”

For the first time that night, a feral little gleam entered Eskel’s eyes. His hands, _big fucking hands_ were everywhere, like being out of the public eye, tucked away together set him free, one cupping Lambert’s ass, the other reaching between her legs, getting very, very close to exactly where Lambert wanted it. “Why don’t you give me the tour in the morning?” There was a little chuckle in his voice and Lambert threw her head back and laughed, dragging Eskel up the stairs.

Though Lambert was wearing a skirt, heels, eyeliner and the cutest panties she owned, she still knew how to throw a man around. Grabbing Eskel’s shoulders, Lambert threw him onto the bed, getting another one of those feral smiles. Kicking her heels off, Lambert stripped her top next, leaving just the skirt, twisting a little for Eskel’s pleasure. “So, what do you want to see first?”

“Hmm...” as Eskel thought, his hand traveled to cup the very large bulge in the front of his jeans, the other arm behind his head, lounging, taking in the whole scene in front of him. “Got anything... flouncy? I like it when you twirl and the skirt moves with you.”

Lambert arched an eyebrow and was rewarded with one of those adorable blushes. So Eskel didn’t just like Lambert’s skirts, he had _opinions_ on them. That was... yeah, Lambert could work with that. Ducking behind the closet door, she smirked at the disappointed little whine she heard, then reached for the navy blue number. It was a little longer than she wanted at this moment, but it was flowy and really got good air when Lambert twirled. Imagining those big hands reaching under, Eskel’s eyes going wide when he finally touched the silky texture of the panties Lambert picked out... Well, at least she didn’t have to wait long for that reaction.

Ever the tease, Lambert made a big show of discarding the other skirt where Eskel was sure to see it on the floor, then stepped out. Just as she predicted, Eskel’s eyes went wide, the hand on his cock twitching a little. “Why are you still dressed?”

It wasn’t an order, but Eskel snapped to it like it was, throwing his shirt on the floor and shucking his jeans like they were on fire. When only sexy-tight boxer briefs remained, Lambert made her move, crawling onto the bed and settling over Eskel’s lap. Grinding their cocks together, Lambert took special pleasure in watching Eskel’s eyes roll back into his head as his hands flailed for purchase on her hips.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Do you wanna... shit, I don’t care what you wanna do, you can fuck me for all I care,” he sighed.

Oh, that was something they hadn’t discussed. Lambert hoped they’d get this far, but didn’t want to count chickens... “Is that what you prefer? Do you want me to fuck you?”

Eyes fluttering, trying to stay open as their hips rolled together, rutting slowly, Eskel shook his head. “Top, bottom, I don’t care, just let me feel what’s under those panties. _Please_.”

Hmm, Lambert already had him begging, perfect. With one last roll of her hips, Lambert stood up, lifting the hem of her skirt, flashing the silky black panties. “You like these too?”

“Yes, fuck yes I do.” There was a spot of wetness spreading across Eskel’s underwear, and Lambert couldn’t help but lick her lips. That was... that was a substantial cock right there. She planned to tease for another moment, really get them both worked up, but fuck the head of it alone was... Yeah, they were already worked up enough.

“Take ‘em off, mine, then yours.”

Sitting up like Lambert had him on a string, Eskel wrapped one hand around the top of her thigh, pressing kisses up the smooth skin of her thighs before his fingers tugged at the waistband of her panties. Easing them down Lambert’s legs, she took over when they reached her knees, kicking them off and letting Eskel get a good, long look. Licking his lips—mouth gone dry—Eskel whispered, “Fuck, your cock is—uh.”

 _Oh you damn considerate hunk_ , Lambert thought. “Still my cock, don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, okay.” Shaking himself, Eskel managed to get back on track very quickly, lifting his hand to cup Lambert’s balls, thumb trailing along the shaft. “This is a gorgeous handful, if I do say so myself.”

“Mmm, thank you. Time to show me yours.” Standing on the mattress wasn’t the best idea and Lambert dropped down, giving Eskel enough room to pull off his underwear and release the beast.

And what a beast it was. Thick and heavy, Lambert could damn near taste it. She wanted to bury her nose in the nest of dark curls at the base, and as her own cock twitched and leaked, she knew they probably couldn’t do anything fancy tonight, there was too much need built between them, three months watching each other, polite interactions, the brush of fingers... They were about ready to explode.

Straddling Eskel’s lap again, Lambert fumbled for the lube in the bedside table. “Give me your hand.” Prompt and obedient, Eskel did, moaning when the cool gel coated his palm. “Under the skirt, get us both off. I wanna see you come on it.”

“Yes,” Eskel gasped. “ _Yes_.”

Eskel’s hand was large, but not so big to cover them both (Lambert knew what she was working with). He managed to get most of it, the smooth slide of the lube making everything a million times better. Lambert’s sex life was... not active, but not dead, and she’d had partners recently enough, but Eskel was just so much _more_. With one hand on her hip, one hand wrapped around both their cocks, they both watched Eskel’s jerky movements through the fabric of Lambert’s skirt, their collective wet spot growing and growing and growing...

Lambert came first, back arching, hips stuttering, pushing into Eskel’s hand to get even more, she never wanted the sensation to end. “Oh fuck,” Eskel hissed, coming soon after. The sight of Lambert’s release staining the skirt, the wet patch going from a few drops to damn near a puddle, at the moment, Eskel couldn’t be convinced there was a more beautiful sight in the world. Adding his mess to Lambert’s orgasm, he flopped back onto the bed, hand still supporting Lambert’s hip even as his own coordination started to take a nose dive.

“That was...” Lambert whispered.

“Yeah,” Eskel finished for her. “Yeah.”

It took another few minutes for Lambert to make her legs work. She moaned at the delicious feeling of come and lube all over, so sticky and filthy, next time, she’d definitely have Eskel smear her lipstick, make the sweet man really moan at the act of ruining her beautiful work.

After they were both cleaned up, Lambert stopped to take off the makeup, returning to the bed naked and unadorned. Eskel was half asleep, his eyes barely open, but he still sat up. “Uh, what now? What are you comfortable with?”

Lambert snorted and flopped into the bed, half on top of Eskel, rubbing his face into that delightfully fuzzy chest. “You’re asking me about my pronouns when we’re about to pass out? You are too good to be true.”

Eskel smiled and wrapped his arms tight around Lambert. “Just, uh, let me know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t,” Lambert said, but the little voice in the back of his head whispered, _I’d like that cock to make me uncomfortable... tomorrow maybe_.

7.

The boxing gym Eskel went to seemed like one of those places that mass produced meatheads, but when Lambert walked in, the first thing he noticed was the very butch lesbian with a fetching undercut. She was spotting a thinner person wearing eyeliner (even Lambert wasn’t one to wear makeup to the gym, but different strokes) and the sparkliest tank top Lambert had ever seen.

A man with long white hair pulled back into a high ponytail walked over, hand outstretched. “I’m Geralt, the owner, welcome to White Wolf Boxing.”

Lambert couldn’t stop himself. “And I take it you’re the while wolf?”

Geralt smirked. “You got it.”

Standing close at Lambert’s side, Eskel gave Geralt a quick fist bump before saying, “This is Lambert, the GNC employee that got us the discount.”

“Nice, really appreciate that. Do you need a tour or does Eskel want to show you around?”

Eskel moved closer to Lambert, wrapping an arm around his hips. “I got it, no worries.” Geralt bid them goodbye and headed back to the office to do some paperwork.

Eskel led Lambert through the gym. There was the boxing ring, of course, it was a boxing gym after all, a few heavy bags, two speed bags, then the weights and some cardio machines. Lambert saw a few yoga mats rolled up against one wall and smirked. “Nice place you got here.”

Lambert also noticed the people. It was a little empty—after lunch, not the busiest gym time—but along with the very butch lesbian, there was a man with a towel in the colors of the bisexual pride flag, two more people Lambert clocked as queer, and exactly one typical “gym guy” working by himself on a heavy bag, not paying attention to any of the other customers.

By the time they reached Eskel’s preferred equipment, Lambert was in awe. “So how did I not know the boxing gym was also the queer gym? Am I not on the right mailing lists?”

Eskel smirked. “Geralt’s a good friend of mine, he wanted his place to be welcoming to anyone. He doesn’t advertise it like that, but word travels.”

Lambert glanced over his shoulder and noticed the tiny pride flag in the corner of the office window. “That’s great, I like it here. Think you can get me a discount on membership? Since you and the owner are such _good friends_ and all?” Lambert waggled his eyebrows and Eskel rolled his eyes, sitting down on the weight bench.

Before he added any weight or told Lambert what they were doing, he grabbed Lambert’s hips and pulled him in close, resting his chin on his stomach. No one else in the gym noticed or seemed to care about their closeness. “Let’s talk about appropriate gym attire though, before I let you join _my_ gym.”

Lambert looked down at himself. Sneakers, tanktop, leggings, seemed perfectly fine to him... “What exactly is your objection?”

Eskel smirked, biting his lip in that way he knew Lambert couldn’t resist. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little cheerleader skirt in your closet. That’s athletic, might’ve been nice to see you running around in that...”

Arching an eyebrow, Lambert tried to keep his voice low. No one seemed to care here, but that didn’t mean he was going to start rutting against Eskel in the middle of the gym... maybe if they were alone, and that was a big maybe. “I wouldn’t call _that_ cheerleader skirt athletic.” For one thing, it was the kind of cheerleader skirt one bought at a sex shop, definitely not regulation or good for exercise, but... “I might be convinced to get a real one. Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Eskel repeated. “Well, I live in hope then.” Nuzzling his nose against Lambert’s stomach, they got to work, Lambert taking the spotting position. They already, uh, _warmed up_ , earlier with a rather vigorous fuck, so their muscles were nice and loose, ready for a proper workout. Laying his hands on the bar, Eskel took a second to center himself. “I like red, by the way,” he said, then began his first set.

Lambert was so distracted by the thought—where could he get a red cheerleader skirt? today maybe?—he almost forgot he was supposed to be spotting.

The day he showed up to White Wolf Boxing gym with said red cheerleader skirt, Geralt greeted him, then went back into the office. It was... well, it was fucking amazing. And the way Eskel showed his appreciation after their workout was even better.


End file.
